


Damn the Gods

by livebynight



Series: You and Ivar [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ivar/Female Reader, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, smut ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight
Summary: Before Ivar departed for battle, you provided lessons on how to please a woman. Now he has returned and you find his teachings have only put you at a disadvantage.





	1. A Feast for a King

 

 

 

You found yourself strolling idly through town. The feast had raged long into the night, even still now, when the sunrise wasn’t far off. You’d been _that close_ to drinking too much, so you took your flagon for a breath of fresh air. It swung at your side, brushing at your skirts with every step.

There was a trail of bodies spread around the beach. Drunkards celebrating too hard - simply evidence to the Ragnarsson’s return. You tried to stifle the laughter in your chest, not wishing to disturb them. Softly, you moved past them. Continued on through the wood, a lone path led your way, and lucky for you, torches were lit down the length of it.

With two hands, you raised the flagon to your lips, taking a bountiful gulp. Though the liquid was nearly spat out, a voice in the darkness having startled you.

“What are _you_ doing out here?”

You recognized the voice before you turned to see him. Ivar sat outside Floki’s burrow, perched on the bottom step and leaning back against the one above it.

“I should ask you that,” you countered, smiling at him. You hadn’t spoken since his return, had merely seen him at a distance, and you hated admitting how saddened you were while he was away. “You are missing your own feast.”

“My feast is right here,” Ivar said mischievously. You were uncertain of what he meant, but were suspicious of the look in his eye. He reached behind him for his own drink and took a sip. Tilted his head at you as if mulling something over. The mead made it difficult not to flinch under his stare; you normally did well at keeping composed around him. Months of separation had weakened you. “Did you not wish to see me?” He finally asked.

“Why would you ask that?”

“You have not yet come to greet me. Now is only a mistake.”

Hardly a moment and he was already grinding your bones. Your look turned sour, his accusation absurd. “Ivar, you have all been flocked at like flies on shit. I did not want to overbear.”

His face split into a grin as you spoke, “Oh, y/n, I have missed the way you speak.” He slid his hand over the step next to him, drummed his fingers expectantly at you. As you approached, it was easier to see him, almost gasped at how different he looked. His hair was so long now, ruffled probably from having been braided. He seemed… bigger even, his shoulders having grown in size. Or perhaps it was just the length of time since you’d seen him? Your eyes fell on a scar that marred his cheek and you felt anger. Whoever intended to harm his face deserved to be flayed.

You sat next to him, placing your flagon next to his. You and he stared at each other openly. Were you supposed to hug him? No. No, you could not hug Ivar. He did not hug.

Eventually he slid an arm around your waist, tugging you close. His gaze fell to the spot below your ear and his lips parted. You shivered. He seemed lost in thought and you raked through your mind, trying to think of something to say. The damn buzz made it hard to concentrate, Ivar’s hand on the small of your back did nothing to help.

“Don’t you mean to tell me of your success, Ivar?” You finally asked quietly.

Ivar frowned at the break in his concentration. “I have had enough talking today,” he stated. His blue eyes darted back to yours, there was something animalistic in the way he looked at you. “I have you to myself now and I…” He trailed, leaning in to press his lips on your neck. He loudly exhaled, barely moving, and you were frozen as well. Not having his mouth on you for as long as it had been… The feeling of it was overwhelming, you couldn’t help but lean into him. “I have missed you,” he admitted, now allowing himself to roam over your skin. “I have missed your body.”

You sucked in a breath, opened your mouth to speak when he touched your chin, moved your head to kiss your lips.

He was pulling away before you could respond. You forced your eyes open, feeling drunk, and not from the mead. His sly grin had returned. “I have missed your lessons.”

“ _Ivar_ ,” you scolded, barely containing your giggle.

Shortly before he left for England, rumors were circling that Ivar couldn’t _perform_ properly. It had angered you that someone – a _slave_ no less – could try to ruin him like that. Ivar had been your childhood friend; the adulterous nature of your birth had cast you an outsider, and he with his legs. It was fated to have formed a bond with him and your loyalty to him stemmed as deep as the roots of a century old tree.

As an orphan, things like maidenhood and betrothal meant nothing to you. You had been with men before and you wanted Ivar to learn, to never have some servant spread malicious words about him again. So, you taught him. You hadn’t gotten to sex, but putting his strong hands and beautiful mouth to work, nearly everything besides. Ivar learned to know your body better than anyone.  

His chuckling sounded in your ear as he moved to kiss your neck again. Fingers danced across your breast before clutching at your ribcage, squeezing you tighter against him.

“Ivar, don’t,” you breathed, though you didn’t want him to stop. “Someone – _Floki_ could come see.”

“You will have to make me,” he murmured into your skin. He forced your head back to nip at your throat before sucking the mark red. You were just beginning to moan when he covered your mouth with his. His kissing was fast and hungry, bruising and nearly painful. Holding his face in your hands, you pulled away.

“I see you are rusty, Ivar,” you began to lecture. At once, from the separation he glared at you, looking furious. But Ivar was a surprisingly good student. He nodded, brows furrowed, and leaned in again to capture your lips. This time he was slower. It seemed his strength was hard for him to contain, but now he moved languidly, taking time to meld with you. He sucked your upper lip between his, ran his tongue underneath it and you shuddered. You felt him smile against your lips.

His hand left your ribs, moved instead to your knee where he gripped your skirt and started pulling it up your thighs.

“You shouldn’t,” you remarked at once, pulling away from him again.

He licked his lips and smirked down at you, rolling his jaw. Then his face fell flat and his other hand gripped hard at your chin. Almost painful. “I should. And I will.”

He continued pulling up your skirt till it was bunched around your hips. You stubbornly held your legs together but he pried at your thighs, mockingly tutting at you. “Open, y/n.”

You granted him leave, begrudgingly spreading your thighs apart for him. His hand was instantly sliding between them till he cupped your privacy in it. The pressure of it made you wet for him, you knew there was no stopping now.

Ivar began to groan, rubbing his hand back and forth over your lips. His face was hardly inches from yours and hot breath fanned your face for each of his exhales.

“I used to think of this,” he started to speak. “You are always so warm.”

It was a struggle, paying attention to his words. Your hips started to roll with his hand, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe.

“On the coldest nights,” he continued. “All I could think about was being inside you, so tight and warm.” He slid his fingers inside you as he went on; you bit hard on your lip, trying to quiet your moans into whimpers.

He groaned again, sheathing his fingers up to his knuckles. He dragged them out and pushed inside again. “Some nights,” his voice hitched as he started a pace, “I could even touch myself… just thinking about it.”

“ _Ivar_ ,” you moaned his name. You’d never heard him speak like this before and it had as much effect on you as his hand did. Your hips jerked at him and your head fell back on the stairs. Ivar nodded at you, as if feeling your agony. With regret, he pulled his hand away from you. You went to embrace him, feel his lips once again but he moved down the step.

He lay his body flat on the ground. His back arched as he reached for your thighs and yanked you toward him. You were gasping again, hands scrambling at the stairs but this time you couldn’t say no to his actions. He had your legs over his shoulders without resistance.

You could barely see him over your bunched skirt, but you reached out to run your fingers through his hair. His mouth was nearly there, but first teased your thigh. He nuzzled into the flesh before taking a sharp bite, making your hips buck toward his face. The sound he made was delighted and then his tongue was dragging through your slit.

The moan that left you couldn’t be held back, it was sure to have echoed through the trees but you no longer fretted. Ivar was clearing your mind, fucking you with his tongue. He pressed harder into you and took your clit into his mouth. You nearly screamed and your legs clenched around him, squeezing a fist into his hair. It would hardly take long to reach your orgasm at this point; he had you flailing on the steps, you would’ve tumbled off of them if his hold on you hadn’t been so strong. One arm was flung over your waist while the other wrapped around your thigh, locking you in place.

He suddenly moaned against you. His voice reverberated through you, making you squeal.

“ _Gods_ – Ivar, don’t – _ahh_ ,” garbled nonsense flew out of your mouth. You could feel him shake with laughter between your legs but then his fingers were inside you again. He had such strong, thick fingers – they were better than any prick you’d ever had. He quickly pumped them in and out, steadily increasing his pace. For just a moment, he lifted his mouth from you to press kisses back and forth between your thighs.

But just as you felt yourself close to the brink, the rising pressure in the pit of your belly becoming unbearable, he sucked your clit back between his lips, sucked and laved till he had you screaming his name. The spasms that took over your body were violent, and if it weren’t for him, you would have tumbled down the stairs

His position went unchanged until you had settled down. He kissed you again, albeit through your twitching. Lips were soft at your opening, just above the now swollen nub, at the connection of each thigh to your pelvis. By the time he had pulled himself up to hover over you, you were dazed. Your hands weren’t even strong enough to grasp at his tunic and pull him down, wanting to feel his weight. He smiled at the look on your face and leaned down to kiss you.

You could taste yourself on him, but you had no strength but to whimper against him. Your mouths meld together, a slow dragging now as you caught your breath.

There was a movement in the woods and Ivar straightened. He looked over his shoulders and pivoted to be sat beside you, pulling your skirt down in the next motion.

You would’ve cared if you were not still in pure bliss. It was an effort just to hold onto his forearm and pick yourself up.

A small party of men walked by. They noticed Ivar and let out a drunken cheer, raising what was left of their drinks. Ivar did the same, amusing them, and raised his flagon before gulping down the rest of his mead. He watched them until they receded from the clearing. 

“You are not so timid now,” he remarked, sounding amused.

Words were still caught in your throat. Instead, you smacked his arm. Between the come-down of both Ivar and the alcohol, you were dreary. It would be a struggle to make your way back to your own farm.

“Perhaps tomorrow, I can see you again.” Ivar said.

Your legs still tingled; what you wanted was for him to join you in bed. “Perhaps… If you ask nicely the next time.”

Your comment was meant in jest, but Ivar made a sound of frustration and whipped around to glare at you. “I do not think you realize who I am, y/n. Or what I have done.” He leaned closer to your face, an act of intimidation but you instantly became defensive. You had known Ivar long enough not for him to speak to you in such a manner. “I have conquered, and I will conquer you if I so desire.”

Appalled at his words, you moved to rise, gasping when his hand clenched painfully tight around your wrist. You were starting to think perhaps battle had changed him more than he let on. But you would not be manhandled this way. With the strength you had left in your tired body, you fought against his grasp, and when he did not let go, your freed hand gathered a quantity of sand and tossed it at his face.

Ivar released you in an instant and you nearly fell to the ground. In all your haze, you picked yourself up and stormed off, hearing him spitting behind you.

The change in his demeanor enraged you. Perhaps it was wrong to lash out as you did. But not a lot made sense at the moment. You had drunk too much. Let him use you as he pleased. Cursing yourself, you continued on through the woods, craving nothing more than the comfort of your bed. Ivar would be dealt with another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giddyyy with the feedback so far :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://captainpoopweinersoldier.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) you are all so lovely...

 

 

You’d been trying to avoid him for days now. Something nearly impossible as ward of the Ragnarsson’s. At every meal, you were expected in their hall, though now you sat on the end closest to Ubbe, rather than Ivar, with whom you normally sat.

He tried incessantly to get your attention during the night’s feasts, going as far as to throw a chicken bone at your plate from across the table.

It strained you to meet his eye. His would be the death of you, you decided. Gods willing. Bright blue and always piercing into your very soul. He merely smirked at you, calling your name.

“Why have you not sat with me?” He asked, tilting his head in the mocking way you’d taught yourself so thoroughly to ignore.

“Perhaps I will only become more reluctant, Ivar, when you throw bones in my face.”

You hadn’t meant such a harsh tone, but inevitably, the other brothers stopped what they were doing to ogle at you. Ivar licked his lips before they curled into a devilish smile. Though, past it, you could sense his irritation.

“Forgive me, Ubbe,” you murmured. You gathered your cloaks and excused yourself from the table, storming out.

It was foolish to let your emotions be known in front of the party. But Ivar – acting so ignorant! Like he hadn’t known your reason for anger. It was infuriating.

The night was still young, the sky a deep blue much like the eyes that upset you. Too dark for the woods, but the docks looked enticing. You strode across the sand of the beach, making your way to the farthest dock so you could sit alone at the end of it. The wind had a chill; the winter would start soon. Days were warm enough but the night was becoming nearly so cold, it’d be time for the furs soon.

Sitting at the edge of the dock, you let your feet swing about. You stared toward the stars, silently asking guidance. Growing feelings for Ivar was not something possible – he _was_ impossible. It had been naive to try and teach him, to think perhaps the lessons would grant you more from him. For they were never just lessons. Since you were a small girl you cared for him. An outsider yourself, you often thought you understood him. As children, the boys would tease him, make him angry and send him into violent tantrums. You made it your sole purpose to soothe his anger, be the only ally among his foes.

In adolescence, you selfishly enjoyed that power. It was only in the last few years that Ivar ceased to sneak in your room at night, eyes swollen from the pain of his legs or the merciless insults to seek solace in your bed. Always innocent, but the intimacy shook your core regardless. No one made you feel as he did. Whether it was due to his frequent cruelty or his rare kindness, it mattered not.

The nostalgia had run so deep in the time that passed, you hadn’t even noticed as Ivar crawled down the dock to sit beside you.

“Tell me what bothers you, y/n?”

“Go back inside, Ivar. It is cold and I wish to be alone.” There was a moment’s pause before – “ _Ow_!” Ivar had pulled a strand of your hair, stinging your scalp. Something he did as a child. “Ivar!”

The smile on his face was nearly breathtaking enough to soothe the pain, something that only fueled your upset. “What was that for?”

His laughter was just as beautiful – even if it was at your expense. Another weakness of yours, endlessly exploited by this young man.

“You cannot ignore me forever,” he chided. “Even when you intend to scold me in front of my brothers.”

“Is that what has you caring?” You snapped, finally turning in your spot to glare at him. “What your brothers think of you?”

Ivar shrugged, angering you further, looking somewhere past you into the distance. “If I am to be truthful, it was the mouthful of sand that got my attention.”

You sulked, regretting your actions now. Staying angry at him would’ve been easier. You turned away from him and he scoffed. He pulled himself to the edge of the dock and held himself up on his hands to swing his legs over it.

“Another lie.” He admitted eventually. You could feel him looking at you but refused to show your face from under the hood of your cloak. “Far more of you has gotten my attention.”

“If that is meant to make up for what you said the other-”

“Ah!” He exclaimed, nudging your shoulder with his. “So, it is what I said that has upset you.”

You couldn’t help but to growl; now he has found you out. He would never let you hear the end of it, it was certain.

“Just say it, y/n.” He chided yet again.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“It is now you that lies, then.” Ivar remarked. He reached his hand up to pull back your hood, to look upon your face. That hood was all you had for defense; if you met his eye you knew you’d be done for. “Look at me,” he probed. But you tried to refuse and you heard him sulk. His hand grabbed your jaw next, painfully forcing you to look at him. His lips were taut in a scowl and he wouldn’t break your eye contact if Freyja herself, strode naked before him. That you knew. He drew you close enough to him that you could smell him.

“Say it.”

There was no use refusing him any longer. His hands were strong - it didn’t matter how hard his fingers dug into your chin; he would get his answer. “You know I long for you, Ivar,” you admitted, unashamedly. You might not have been fully Viking but you were certainly raised and taught by them. You would act like it. “And yet you have made me nothing more than a _play thing_.”

At first, he seemed amused, happy to hear your confession. His plump, bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth until he grinned. But in his eyes, there was something more distant, less evident. His hand fell from your face; you missed the contact even though it had hurt.

“You are wrong.” He finally said, turning back to face the water. “You are more than that – and you won’t have me say it again.”

You stared at him, brow raising in disbelief of his words. “What?”

Ivar scoffed and gave your arm a nudge, “Did you not hear me, woman?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you scolded, pushing him back. You were being silly now, suddenly feeling your upset fade away. It was dangerous, his effect on you. “You are the fool,” he retorted, giving your side a sharp pinch.

Squealing in pain, you gave him a hard shove, much harder than intended on the small dock, and his face fell slack just as he tipped over the edge and fell in the water.

Your first instinct was to laugh – if it had been any other normal person it would have been funny. But this was not a normal person, this was Ivar, and you nearly screamed realizing what you’d done.

You spared a glance around you for help, only to find no one around. Without much further hesitation, you threw off your cloak and jumped in the water after him.

It was so cold that the air was knocked out of your chest and you sunk like a stone. It was easy enough to grasp onto Ivar, flailing around as he was. You took hold of what you thought was his waist and kicked off the ground; you both broke the surface sputtering.

“I-Ivar!” You shouted hysterically – he was coughing water from his lungs but as soon as he could, he smacked you across the face, was hardly able to shout ‘wench’ at you through his choking. The sting of his hand felt like a tap in the frigid water. In a struggle, you waded to the dock, pushed him forth to the ladder and held him there until he was stable enough to get a grip.

He pulled himself up with the strength you’d always admired, and once you were sure he was safely atop, you climbed up behind him.

“A-are you trying to kill me?!” Ivar shouted. His hair had become a mess. Given the chance, you would’ve paused to behold it, the way it fell, soaking wet just below his sharp jaw. A perfect frame for his face contorted in rage.

“Shut up, idiot,” you snapped. He was clearly freezing, tremors violently coursing through his body as it struggled to get warm. You smacked his hands away and tore off his cloak, trying to get some of the cold off of him. “Ivar – listen, you need to follow me.” You were scared now, scared he’d get the chill and not recover. “Can you make it to my farm?”

It was the closest one to the dock without having to burst in on his brothers. Through the convulsions, he forced a nod, and you sprinted away to your farm.

Inside, you stoked the hot coals in the pit and threw on a log with some kindling. Regardless of the temperature, Ivar would be cold enough that you needed your good furs. The ones you kept stocked until the dead of winter. You pulled them out and piled one on the floor next to the pit – the log already catching fire enough to stack two smaller ones over it. By the time you’d made a warm cot, the door crashed open to a soaking wet Ivar, now covered in sand.

“Take off your clothes, Ivar,” you ordered, not sparing him a glance as you got the bed ready for him.

“F-forget what I said,” he drawled, crawling inside. You got up to close the door behind him and resisted dragging him along just to make him move faster. “I _h-hate_ you.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes!”

You took your own shoes off and pinned your hair up. The adrenaline had been running through your veins fast enough not to realize how cold you were just yet.

He’d finally approached the fire pit and with enough impatience you kneeled down to help remove the braces on his wrists.

“Don’t touch me!” He snapped, pulling his hand from your grip.

“Ivar, if you don’t undress, you will freeze – let me help you!”

Beyond the shaking and ire, he saw reason and you freed his hands of the braces. You reached for the laces of his tunic and he tried to stop you again, “Let me do it!”

“Get your pants off,” you countered, not stopping. He reluctantly undid his pants, pausing to let you strip him of his tunic. You worked off his shoes next, the chill finally sinking in enough that your fingers shook as you pulled each of them off. “Pants, Ivar!”

You looked up at him, prepared to snap at him again, but the look on his face halted you. In all his shivering, he seemed insecure, uncomfortable to take his pants off. “Ivar…” you said, gently this time, “I don’t give a damn about your legs – please, just get your pants off and get on the furs before I strip you myself.”

A lie. You very much gave a damn about his legs. Without the muscle or strength a man his size should’ve had, they would be the first go if they didn’t get warm fast. You desperately wanted to bundle them up.

His shoulders slumped as he gave in. He pushed his pants down his legs, and already being at his feet, you pulled them off the rest of the way. He held himself up on his hands and moved backwards onto the fur. You crouched over him, putting one layer over his legs and an additional to cover his whole body.

You heaved a breath, tucking him in – finally, he would be dry. You got up to fetch water and poured some for him. His throat was bound to ache. With shaking hands, you gave him the mug, then went through the process of hanging his clothes to dry as well. When all was done, you settled by the fire, holding your hands to the flame to keep them warm.

Ivar called your name, and you looked to him, expecting something wrong.

“You will freeze, too.” Under the blanket you could tell he was still jittery, but he looked almost half a shade better already.

“I am fine, Ivar,” you insisted. You only wanted him warm. The Gods would have you if you had to explain to his brothers why he froze to death.

“Bull shit,” he argued, “I can see you shaking from here. I will not have you get the chill.”

You tried to ignore him but it was becoming impossible not to notice how you now had to rock back and forth to retain any sort of warmth.

“Y/n,” Ivar said, a softness to his voice you couldn’t recall ever hearing. “I am Prince. Undress and lie with me.”

When you looked at him again, he didn’t even appear smug. And so you sighed, giving in. You drew the oversized tunic over your head, now heavy with wet. You only had a thin dress on underneath, and you pulled apart the strings, pushing the fabric over your shoulders to shrug down your body as you stood. It was hard to brush off Ivar’s stares as you undressed. He had done all manner of things to your private parts, with his hands and with his mouth, yet never had you presented yourself to him in this manner. Fully naked.

As if sparing you, he watched your face, not your body, as he pulled furs aside to make room next to the fire. You buried yourself next to him, unable to keep from moaning at the warmth of it. Ivar twisted around to face you and pulled a layer over your shoulder, tucked it in around your neck.

“That is good, isn’t it?” He asked. He didn’t wait for you to answer before pulling your arm around him, the heat twice as good now with his body radiating against yours. Huddling so close, it was beyond your ability not to stare at him. The overcast of the fire only made it worse, deeply contrasting the curves in his muscular shoulders and chest, the thickness of his neck. By the time your eyes made it to his face, you cursed. Of course, he was observing you.

“Thirsty for something, my pet?”

You groaned, clenching your eyes shut and ducked your head. Unfortunate for you, as it had nowhere to go but into his chest.

“What is the matter?” He asked, feigning obliviousness. Though the laughter was clear in his voice. “I am certain you have missed me, ignoring me all this time. And to think I have only just returned from battle! I could have _died_.”

“I should have let you drown.”

“Don’t be silly,” he murmured. His voice dropped an octave and the tips of his fingers ran softly over your back, making you squirm. He tilted his head, so his lips brushed your ear. They still felt cold and raised bumps on your skin. “Am I to believe there is another man’s face you wish to have pressed between your legs?”

“ _Ivar_!” You exclaimed. You pushed yourself away to look at him, just in time to see him roll his jaw back and forth as he smiled, teeth bared like a beast. “Only _you_ could talk shit – an inch from death!”

“It is not talking shit,” he argued, “If you act on your words.”

“Stop with your words.” There was not much else for you to say without causing you more embarrassment. He quirked his lips and resigned, but not until he tightened his grip around you so you pressed into his chest again. You were tense a moment longer, but the warmer it became, the more the tension eased. Ivar hardly shivered after some time, save a twitch here or there.

 

 

You hadn’t even been aware of falling asleep until waking up some time later. It was now completely dark outside; the fire still lingered in its pit, though the last log was almost spent. As you came to, you snuggled into the heated mass beneath you until realizing it was a human body.

With a jolt, your head snapped up, finding yourself sprawled across Ivar’s torso, one of your hands cupped around his shoulder. Your first instinct roared at you to move off him but Gods… he was _so warm_. His eyes were closed. It was the most relaxed you had ever seen him. Eyebrows no longer furrowed, creating wrinkles in his forehead. Lips not pulled back in a snarl. You wanted to curse his beautiful face… but first…

Letting go of his shoulder, you felt through his hair – still damp but not cold. His cheeks were warm, as was his neck, and you sighed, relieved.

“What are you doing to my face, mad woman?”

The sudden outburst had you jump in fright. You lifted off of him and held a hand to your racing heart. “Ivar… I thought you were asleep.”

“Taking advantage of a sleeping man?”

You rolled your eyes. You perched on an elbow, leaving a hand splayed on his chest. “Ah, I think I find you more tolerable when I think you are not awake.” Ivar’s chest grumbled as he smiled. Eyes still closed. Under the blanket, he pinched gently at your ribcage. “You should have woken me.”

“I was thinking.”

“On what?”

“This has me thinking… of when we were younger. When I had snuck into your bed at night.” The honesty had you taken aback. You chewed anxiously on your lip while you looked at him. His voice rasped, most likely from the saltwater. “Mother hated it. But you were unlike the rest of them. Still are, I believe.”

“Ivar…” You whispered, an incredulous loss for words. He had never spoken like this; perhaps you ought to check his temperature again. He must be delirious.

“You are right,” he carried on, waving a hand. “I should not speak of such things.”

But you wanted to hear more. Your heart clenched in your chest as he quieted down. Unsure of what to do, you drew your hand from his chest, sat up clenching one of the blankets. “Let me check on your clothes.”

“Do not leave,” he requested. His eyes were open now, staring you down, making more of a demand than a question. You wanted to assure him; you had never seen him behaving this way and you weren’t sure if perhaps this was a dream… worse, if he was indeed ill. Either way, you didn’t want to let it slip. You leaned over him once again to run your hand over his face, “This is _my_ farm, Ivar. If anyone chooses to leave it is you.”

The smile he let slip was tiny, almost unnoticeable but you caught it.

You took a blanket with you to wrap yourself and rose to check his clothes. Still wet, unsurprisingly. With the thickness of his layers it would take at least until morning to dry, you wagered. Instead, you put another log on the fire, stirred it to get the flames to rise higher.

Ivar was seated upright when you rejoined his side. You’d barely settled on your knees to fan out the blanket when his hands clasped around your face. He forced you to him, nearly tipping you over so that you had to brace yourself over his legs. You were endlessly reminded that struggling against him was fruitless, but you still held onto his forearms, worried about the sudden change in him.

Instead his eyes softened, falling to your face. “I have marked you.”

“What?” You were confused.

“I hit you,” he said, “And now you are bruised.”

In the cold, you had forgotten completely. “It is all right. Just a bruise.”

“And so we are even,” he remarked, the usual sly smile coming back on his face. “Now get on me.”

You hardly needed a second telling. The close proximity merely became more and more torturous as this night went on with him. His grip on you hardly loosened as you moved over his lap, straddling him so he was nestled between your thighs. The blanket was not much a barrier between the both of you, falling from your shoulders when his hand tightly grabbed your backside, pulled your hips even closer.

In an instant, he was kissing you, soft lips devouring yours while fingers snaked into your hair. Damn him for learning so well. Damn yourself for teaching him just what you liked, so he knew just how to move against you, how to barely pull apart so he could run his tongue along the seam of your lips. He pried your mouth open with his own, sliding his tongue inside. You moaned, granting him leave to suck your own into his mouth. Shivered when his teeth dragged along the sides of it.

His mouth suddenly left yours, leaving you empty. He tilted you backward, making your back arch so he could replace your tongue with your breast. He nipped and sucked, twisting the other with his fingers till he made you squeal. You were soon moaning his name.

You wove your hands into his hair, now a matted mess of saltwater and sand. It was no bother. Both his strong arms wound around your waist, squeezing you tight while he mouthed at your flesh. His breath was hot enough on the dampness he left behind that you could do nothing but quiver. You found yourself rolling your hips, thrusting against him without even meaning to. The friction caused an almost painful sensation in the pit of your belly.

A frustrated growl sounded right in your ear just as Ivar sunk his teeth into your neck. Your jaw grit closed from the pain of it but it taunted the wetness between your legs. He clenched harder in response, grinding your skin in his teeth until he had you shuddering. It was meant as punishment, but your eyes rolled in the back of your head, incoherent to the way he moved until his hand slid past your opening. He used it to moisten his fingers, dragged between your lips until the thick pads of them circled around your clit.

The sob that escaped you was unpreventable. “ _Ivar_ ,” you moaned, just as he was pulling the hair at the nape of your neck.

“That’s it, y/n,” he murmured slowly; his chest was heaving. “Beg for me.”

Another loud moan while he teased you some more with his hand. You tried kissing him again but his fist around your hair was tight, not willing to let go. “Ivar, please, _please_!”

Thick fingers plunged inside you so rapidly, your jaw fell slack, gasps tumbling out of you in the least dignified fashion. You reached down to grip his wrist just as he started pumping. Pressed between your crotches, you felt him growing hard beneath the blanket. There was a sharp intake in his lungs as your knuckles brushed past it.

“Ivar, are you -”

“ _Yes_.” He managed to hiss, responding harder with his fingers. You nearly saw stars in his assault, pressed your mouth into his cheek in your weakness. It was a frenzy as you pulled the blanket from him. He kept busy beside your neck, sure to leave marks for later. He was reluctant to pull his hand from you, unwilling to face the potential disappointment to follow. But you thought little of it, simply wrapped your hand around his girth, sudden enough to make his breath hitch, jerk against your hand. His entire upper body spasmed.

“Y/n,” he stuttered, but you wouldn’t give him the chance to doubt himself. You guided him to your entrance, raised your hips until his tip tickled you, and finally you sunk down onto him. The friction of it made you both still, your breath froze in your lungs and he clutched at your waist. Once you were certain there’d be no change, you moved your hips again, grinding against his until the brunt of it made him fall back, catching himself on his elbows.

You did not want to waste more time. You started to ride him, one hand braced on his chest while the other held his arm to you. It was almost difficult to decide what you enjoyed more – the look of utter astonishment on his face, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, or the feeling of him, thick and hard inside. Inevitably, the latter won by far. For once, it was you to smirk devilishly at him, pushing forward to force him on his back. His chest was large enough to brace yourself upon. You moved your hips faster, gaining momentum.

Ivar moaned unlike anything you had ever heard. It was low, yet loud and heavenly. His hands grasped for nothing in the air, his mouth still agape and eyes unfixed. You no longer cared about your own wants; you wanted him to crumble beneath you, come apart at your doing.

He grunted, eyes finally fixating on you and you spread your legs further, taking him in deeper till your head rolled as you cried. “Come to me, Ivar.”

It seemed to take him much strength to sit up again, but his arms were around you once more and you wrapped your own around his shoulders, grinding your hips hard into his. You clutched him to you, nails raking his flesh, fingering through his hair. Tightening your hold on him till there was no space between your bodies.

The sounds he made were the most erotic things you had ever heard and drove you faster, rolling into him without abandon now.

Curses tumbled over his tongue and he became frantic. He pressed his head into the crook of your neck, whining in such a way that you almost came undone. Your name fell from his lips as if in prayer. He gripped onto your shoulders, driving you down on him hard enough that he was shouting into your ear. You felt him shake in your hold, just as he did when he was shaking in the water. His hips jerked uncontrollably against you and he was moaning, a trembling mess underneath you as he came to orgasm, spilling his seed inside you.

For what felt like a long moment, your two bodies stayed entwined. Ivar’s shoulders rose and fell as he panted. The movement matched with your own and you stayed clutching to him, the both of you now covered in a layer of sweat.

“What have you done to me?” He asked dreamily. His speech was slurred, like he was drunk.

You hummed, finally loosening your hold on him. “I think I have satisfied you, Ivar.”

“ _Ah_ …” he breathed back. Suddenly he tipped backward, taking you down with him. You rolled over to lay beside him and heaved a sigh, rolling your eyes at his little delighted sounds, foreign coming from Ivar the Boneless. Muscles immediately started to tire and feel sore.

You were just nearly drifting off again when Ivar snatched your wrist. Brought it to his lips to run over your knuckles. Looking up at him you had to contain your laughter. He had the most stupid smile on his face. Damn that face. Eyes were bright, as if he were in a dream... Damn those eyes…


End file.
